


6x08: Step by Step

by nightbirdrises



Series: S6 Reaction Drabbles [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every wedding night ends with sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6x08: Step by Step

**Author's Note:**

> Again, reaction fics are [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/tagged/reaction%20fic).

"It’s just like you said, Kurt! Together forever."

"Okay, but you see, when I said that, I didn’t mean that we would… be together _all_  the time,” Kurt says, catching Blaine’s glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “No offense, but we were sort of planning on, you know, consummating our marriage in private, as I’m sure you both want to do, too.”

"Yeah, and no offense to you guys, but I don’t feel like hearing or seeing sausages flopping around anywhere near me," Santana adds, her arm around Brittany’s waist. "I’m sure there’s another room."

"Are you sure we can’t just play rock-paper-scissors for this one?" Kurt asks, somewhat desperate because this suite has everything, including a bowl of individually wrapped chocolates. Blaine squeezes his hand.

"We can get another room," he says. He backs out of the open doorway into the hall, pulling Kurt with him. "Have a good night."

"Have fun scissoring!" Brittany calls after them just before Santana closes the door with a wink. 

"I really didn’t need that image in my head," Kurt says as he follows Blaine to the elevator. He presses the button and the doors open immediately; they step inside, Blaine tapping the button for the first floor. "I know she means well, but the thought of scissoring doesn’t do much for me."

"What, you don’t think of  _us_  doing that?” Blaine says teasingly as he moves close, eyebrows raised.

"We don’t— Our anatomy is a little bit different, honey. It doesn’t exactly lend itself to that particular sex act." Blaine draws close enough that his nose bumps into Kurt’s, his arms winding around his waist. When his hands find Kurt’s ass, he gives it a little squeeze, pulling a squeak of surprise from Kurt’s lips.

"It’s basically the same thing, it just has a different name." Holding Kurt in place, he pushes his hips forward. " _Frottage_.”

"Okay, Handsy," Kurt says, slightly breathless as he takes Blaine’s hands into his own just in time for the elevator doors to open, putting them in full view of an old couple. Blushing, Kurt brushes past them and heads for the front desk. "Hello, we’d like to get a room for the night. Something nice."

"We’re booked," the concierge says without looking up. Kurt rings the bell, startling her, then smiles sweetly.

"I’m sorry, what?"

"There are no rooms available," the concierge repeats, smoothly professional. "I was under the impression that you were with your partners in the honeymoon suite."

"I  _am_  with my partner,” Kurt says. A thrill goes through him when he thinks of his next words. “My husband. And we would appreciate having a room for our wedding night.”

"Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to look somewhere else. We have two bar mitzvahs and a one-hundredth birthday in the area, so I’m afraid I can’t help you."

"We understand," Blaine says. "Right?" Kurt takes a deep breath and nods.

"Do you know where the closest hotel with available honeymoon suites might be?" he asks. The concierge turns to her laptop and types some information into it, the clacking of keys loud in the otherwise silent lobby. 

"There’s one just over the state line in Ohio," the concierge starts, but Blaine interjects with an apologetic expression.

"That would be great, except the state of Ohio doesn’t legally recognize us as a married couple, so I don’t know if they would let us have the suite." He looks at Kurt, who shrugs uncertainly. "But we’ll take the address and give it a shot."

"The worst that can happen is we get a regular room, right?" Kurt says after they get into Blaine’s car - there are no fancy limousines for impromptu weddings, but they’re both sober, so it’s safe. Blaine turns the key in the ignition and Kurt buckles himself into the passenger seat. "I mean, that would be fine. I can live without chocolate."

"Are you sure?" Blaine asks, pulling out of the parking lot. He grins at Kurt, who rolls his eyes. "I know how important sweets are to you."

” _You_  are far more important to me than anything material,” Kurt says, pulling his phone out to turn on the GPS. “Or edible, in this case.”

"Even cake?"

"Especially cake. It’s so much more satisfying when you have someone to share it with."

"You know, most people would define sharing cake as two people eating one piece of cake, not two people eating two different pieces of cake."

"It all comes from the same cake. We are sharing that one cake."

"Whatever you say, my love."

 

* * *

 

Kurt jolts awake when the engine’s soothing rumble stops abruptly, signaling their arrival. He discreetly wipes a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth - he has to look sexy, damn it - and blinks rapidly at the bright neon sign outside.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"This looks like a motel that’s poorly disguised as a hotel," he says, some of the words blurring together in his half-asleep state.

"It’s the right address," Blaine says, peering through the windshield at the building. "Let’s check it out."

Sure enough, the hotel refuses to let them have a suite. They get a standard single room instead and, a few minutes later, they’re finally in a room of their own, Blaine’s tuxedo jacket and Kurt’s blazer hung side by side in the small closet space.

"Not bad," Blaine says about the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He has already taken off his bow tie, so Kurt works at undoing his own tie while Blaine watches, humming At Last to himself. He smiles, shaking his head in disbelief; they’re  _married_. “So, about that frottage thing…”

"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt says; he drapes his tie over a chair, kicks his shoes off, and settles into Blaine’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I’m planning on doing so much more than that."

"Kiss me, husband," Blaine murmurs. Kurt’s heart skip-jumps; he breathes a _yes_ in between their lips before closing the distance and kissing him open-mouthed. Blaine falls back into the bed and Kurt follows, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. There’s a moment of shuffling and fumbling when Blaine slips his shoes off and scoots up the bed, his knee colliding with Kurt’s ass among all the movement and sending them into a fit of giggles.

"I can’t believe we’re doing this," Kurt says once their laughter has died down; his chest is pressed against Blaine’s, their noses brushing and nuzzling. "Well, actually, I can’t believe we’re sober after our own wedding reception."

"It’s for the best," Blaine says, puckering his lips to give Kurt a peck. "At least for me. You know how I get when I’ve had too much alcohol. It’s not very romantic."

"I suppose—" Kurt’s cut off by the sound of Blaine’s ringtone, an upbeat piano melody that would sound nice if it wasn’t interrupting their impending activities. He groans and rolls off of Blaine to let him answer it. "Why isn’t that thing on silent?"

"I forgot, I’m sorry," Blaine says just before answering the call without looking at the screen. "Hello? It’s Puck," he tells Kurt, who raises an eyebrow. "I’m putting you on speaker."

"Hey Kurt," Puck says. "You guys sore yet?"

Kurt hears the lewd grin in his voice and covers his face with one hand, letting out a half-exasperated, half-frustrated noise. “No, because we’ve barely gotten started, and now you’ve interrupted us, Noah. What is so important that you have to call  _right now_?”

"I’m sorry, bros, but it’s Blaine’s mom, she’s, uh…"

"Please tell me you got her home like I asked you to," Blaine says, worried. Kurt arranges himself so he’s lying on top of the covers, his head on one of the semi-comfortable hotel pillows, and listens as Blaine paces back and forth near his phone, which sits on the nightstand.

"No, I did, trust me. How rich is your family, again?" Puck asks, impressed; Kurt glances at Blaine, who seems decidedly unimpressed with Puck’s subject change. "I’m just saying, this place is  _huge_. Why haven’t we ever had a New Directions party here?”

"Not now," Blaine says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tell me what’s wrong with my mom."

"She’s still pretty drunk and, well…" Puck lowers his voice to a whisper that crackles through the speaker. "She has a serious case of Puck fever."

"Don’t tell me you’re actually  _considering_ —” Kurt starts, sitting up with a disgusted expression.

"No, no way! She’s hot and all—" Blaine sits on the bed next to the nightstand and covers his face with both hands. "—but I wouldn’t do that to Quinn. Besides, she’s Blaine’s mom, it’s weird."

"You slept with Rachel’s biological mother," Kurt reminds him, internally doing his very best not to imagine his friend in bed with his brand-new mother-in-law.

"Yeah, but that was high school me. Seriously, I’m not going to sleep with her," he says when neither Kurt nor Blaine respond. "I just don’t know how to stay with her until she falls asleep like Blaine said if she’s all over me like this."

"Let me talk to her," Blaine says quietly. He picks up his phone and turns it off speaker. "Hi Mama. Yes, Kurt and I are fine, we’re enjoying ourselves. I know, but he has a girlfriend, Quinn, I’ve told you about her before. I just asked him to stay with you and make sure you’re safe."

Gently, Kurt slides on his knees along the bed to Blaine’s side and puts his hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Blaine smiles a little, looking at him briefly.

"I’m always safe with Kurt, you know that." He chuckles, says, "Yeah, your son-in-law. Pretty crazy. Hey, listen, drink some water and get some sleep, okay? We’ll be back tomorrow… afternoon, maybe?" Kurt nods. "Yeah. We’ll come make a late lunch for you. Kurt makes  _amazing_  deviled eggs. Okay. I love you too, Mama. Goodnight.”

When Blaine puts his phone back down, Kurt moves to massage both of his shoulders, noticing the tension in them. “You okay?”

"Yeah, I’m fine. Really," Blaine says when Kurt looks at him skeptically, as if he can feel the look on the back of his head. "I think the thought of Puck and my mom sort of killed my mood, though. I’m sorry."

"No, it’s okay. To be honest, it kind of did that for me too." Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s torso from behind and rests his chin on Blaine’s left shoulder. "We can just cuddle, if you want."

"That sounds perfect."

 

* * *

 

"I really am sorry."

"If you say that one more time I’m going to bite the tip of your nose off," Kurt says, whispering it between them. They’re under the covers, shirtless because it got too warm not to be. The impromptu nature of their wedding leaving them without a change of clothes handy, they’re still wearing their dress pants; their legs are intertwined, Kurt’s arm is wrapped tight around the waist of his husband, Blaine’s fingers are tracing invisible patterns into his shoulder and chest. "I don’t care that we’re not having sex right now."

"But it’s our wedding night," Blaine says, looking at him like he’d pluck a star from the sky for him right now if he could. Kurt knows the feeling. "You said you were planning on doing things with me. Sex things."

"Plans change, sweetheart. I didn’t plan on marrying you tonight, but now you’re my husband and I think maybe I should feel like we’re moving too fast, but… I don’t. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now." Kurt smiles, taking his arm from Blaine’s waist so that he can take his hand instead. "We have  _years_  of fantastic sex ahead of us, anyway.”

A soft inhale, then, “Thank you for coming back. I know I broke your heart again with the Dave thing, and—”

"Hey, it’s fine," Kurt says softly. "I’ve broken your heart, too.  _I’m_  sorry for putting you through all of that. No, just listen,” he says when Blaine starts to speak. “I want to promise one thing that slipped my mind at the altar. I promise not only to always love you, which is a given, but to love you the way you deserve to be loved. Not just wholeheartedly, but openly so. I don’t want to shut you out anymore, and I think I’m getting better.”

Blaine draws his hand up, kisses Kurt’s palm. “I’m getting better, too. Step by step.”

"We can take our steps together now," Kurt says. "Help each other. We’re ready for that, right?" He bites his lip - they may be married, but it was so sudden and unexpected that there’s still some uncertainty simmering under the surface. Kurt knows they love each other. He knows that he’s willing to keep working on himself. Yet for all the knowing, there’s still the not-knowing of whether or not it’s time for the step of marriage.

"Yeah," Blaine says, sure and steady. "I don’t know what’s down the line for us, but I know I’m not scared of whatever it might be. That’s what it’s like to be ready, I think."

"And if you had any concerns whatsoever, you would tell me?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Good." Kurt wriggles closer, seeking Blaine’s warmth. "You’re my _husband_. We’re  _married_. God.”

"It’s too bad we didn’t have any of the dream weddings we planned," Blaine says, his fingers playing with Kurt’s and paying special attention to his ring finger. "Not that it matters because the most important part was always going to be saying ‘I do.’ I just feel like there should be mournful violin music playing to honor all of our amazing and unused ideas."

"Oh, like how you wanted to give all the guests superhero masks?"

"Okay, so not all of our ideas were amazing." Blaine gives a tiny fake cough, says, "Glitter doves."

"Hey, I stand by the genius of that statement," Kurt says with mock indignation, shoving Blaine lightly on the shoulder so that he rolls to his back, grinning. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Kurt maneuvers himself on top of him and rests his cheek where he can feel the soothing rhythm of Blaine’s heart. "I could actually fall asleep right here, right now."

"It’s been an exhausting day," Blaine agrees, yawning. He wraps his arms around Kurt, who’s content to let Blaine’s heartbeat lull him to sleep. But not before he gets the chance to ask one last thing:

"What do you say - lazy morning sex when we wake up?"

"Oh, absolutely yes."

With that, Kurt lets himself drift off into dreams of their future together. In his dreams, they never do stop hurting each other entirely. What keeps the dreams from turning to nightmares is their determination to keep learning, improving, discovering each other and themselves. They’re works in progress, their relationship included, and so perfection is impossible. But the constant of imperfectly wonderful love carries them through every time.

What makes a dream a dream is the presence of hope, and right now, with silver rings on their fingers, sincere promises on their lips, and love in their eyes, Kurt’s hopes for sharing his heart and life with Blaine have never been brighter. 


End file.
